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so im bored, and going to write short dirty fairy tales, plz bear with me: a thread:
Once upon a time, in a faraway land, there lived a beautiful prince who was locked away in a high castle tower. His sister, the oldest and the heir, did not want any competition for the throne.
Once upon a time, in a faraway land, there lived a beautiful prince who was locked away in a high castle tower. His sister, the oldest and the heir, did not want any competition for the throne.
but their mother begged for his life, and the princess spared him. perhaps he would make her an advantageous political bargaining chip someday. meanwhile, the prince, who was quite an avid writer-one had to be, in his situation-penned letters to his future love, whom he was...
convinced would one day rescue him from his forlorn tower. kings, knights, and princes often saved beauties who were punished by ignorant cruelty in stories, didn& #39;t they? perhaps a king from a foreign land would one day storm the castle and stumble upon him by accident...
and take him away from this place. the prince couldn& #39;t call it awful, for it was cool in the summers and warm in the winters when the few guards at his door would provide him supplies for a fire, but it was lonely. he had only his few diversions and his imagination to sustain him
he felt silly, imagining some golden haloed savior bursting through his door, or perhaps ascending the tower like a mythical dragon-beast in search of a mate, but silliness was a diversion, and there were fewer and fewer now that his sister had taken the throne...
was he going to die in this place, old and forgotten? his answer came in the form of an audience with his sister-queen, who called him from his tower. the maids scrubbed him and dressed him, and combed his long locks, perfumed them with rosewater and put rings on his fingers...
"my queen, for what purpose is this?"/ she laughed at him, a musical thing that sent a shiver up his spine. "you& #39;re to be married, my dear. to a king from a foreign land."/ the prince thought of his fantasies, and of the reality of marrying a stranger, and despaired...
"i cannot marry, i am not--"/"am not useful to me, unless you are to be married," the queen said, and swept him into the great hall, where he was greeted by a host of the king& #39;s entourage. magicians, artists, great warriors clad in gold armor. ...
one in particular, a tall man with a powerful build though his beard and hair were streaked with grey, caught his eye and bowed deeply to him as the foreign king approached. the prince realized this handsome soldier must be of the king& #39;s personal guard. ...
the king himself was not so impressive, a man comely of figure, but not of wit. he manhandled the prince as he would have a prized mare, and the prince recoiled at his touch. once the matter was concluded-a few signatures on parchment-his sister...
embraced him and whispered, "do your duty. and when he dies of an affliction of the heart, as my spies say he will in due time, take the throne. and most of all, remain loyal to me." the prince kept his mouth shut, for what loyalty could such a fiend inspire in him...
the king grinned at him. "come, husband. i have had a long journey, and wish to sample the best of what your lovely country has to offer." the prince knew that the king-his husband-was not talking of their water gardens or exquisite sunsets, but did not protest...
as he was led to a celebration obviously long-planned in the outdoor plaza before the castle grounds. drinking and carousing went on long into the night, and as the king grew more and more inebriated, the prince& #39;s eyes strayed more and more to the beautiful man who...
had bowed to him in the day, granted him respect when everyone else seemed eager to treat him as nothing more than a bargaining chip. the prince watched the soldier stand there perspiring in his heavy armor, a stoic expression on his face, though...
he smiled when he caught the prince looking, hand on the hilt of his sword. the prince blushed, thinking how strong and heroic he looked, thinking of the letters he had written while locked away in his tower, of the type of man he had always dreamed of...
but it would be impossible. he was a king& #39;s husband now. and this king did not seem likely to share his possessions, tugging him close and making the prince sit in his drunken lap, uncaring when his cups spilled over the new clothes the maids had dressed him in earlier...
"come, my dear. it& #39;s time to consummate things, hmm?" the king grinned, his teeth wine-stained and rancid. the prince knew of such things, but had not written of them in his letters, and felt sick at knowing what was about to befall him...
he didn& #39;t notice his handsome guard following behind, did not recognize many of the objects that sprinkled the king& #39;s tent as he was led to an encampment outside of the castle walls. this king was right not to trust his sister& #39;s invitation into her palace, but...
that was the last thing on his mind when the king tore at his clothes, fumbling for the fastenings of his own breeches. the prince started as the king made a strange noise, and hurried out of the tent, choking back vomit. the prince could hear him cursing his attendants...
and pitied him for a moment before he realized he was safe./ "are you alright, my king?"/ the voice startled him, and the prince clutched the bedclothes over his naked chest and legs, glad they were not stained with the king& #39;s sickness. ...
it was the guard, from before, and the prince relaxed, though he knew he could not feel ease among these strangers, not entirely. "y-yes," he said. not knowing what possessed him, he let the blankets fall to his thin waist, revealing his chest at flat stomach...
nipples pebbling with cold. "i am lonely, though. and confused. my king has left me, and i am a stranger here." the guard chuckled. "your king has been stolen from you by the labors of his cups. surely, no man would part so willingly from one so...enchanting."...
the prince flushes, and startles at the guard clearing his throat. "i shouldn& #39;t say such things, my king."/ "no, please," the prince said. "say it again." it must be temporary madness that comes over him, to reach out and touch the guard& #39;s hard and unforgiving armor, to pull...
him down to the bed. "you are tempting, but i shouldn& #39;t," the guard says, though he is looking at the prince& #39;s lips and not his eyes. "then kiss me, and i will leave you alone," the prince says, shocked at his own boldness. "one kiss," the guard says, and the prince...
leans up to touch their lips together, gasps as the guard& #39;s tongue traces against the seam of his mouth. "you& #39;re an untouched little thing, then," the guard says, his voice low and almost wounded as they part, the prince dreading the moment& #39;s end, eyes heavy-lidded...
"i& #39;ve been locked in a tower most of my life..."/the guard& #39;s brow furrows, but he doesn& #39;t say anything, and stands just in time for the king& #39;s return. he does not smell of vomit, though his hair is disheveled and still dripping. "husband," he smirks. he nods to the guard...
dismissive, as if to a servant and not the man who held the king& #39;s life in his hands. the guard, ever humble, returned to the entrance of the tent to stand sentry, nothing of their little tete-a-tete showing on his face. the prince nearly protests, but...
knows better. his queen would be disappointed if he did not do his duty. the king pushes him back into the bedclothes, and straddles him, his heavy bulk pressing the prince until he feels he& #39;s suffocating. the king humps against him, though he is soft from drink, and...
the prince cries out in relief when, in the midst of pressing nipping bites to his throat, the king falls unconscious, tiny snores the only hint of life as he faints from drunken exhaustion. shoving the limp body off of him, the prince holds himself and calls, in a small...
voice, to the guard. he does not have to wait a moment before the guard is kneeling before him, taking the prince& #39;s hands in his and pressing a comforting kiss to his temple. "is he always like this?" the prince asks, shaking. "he& #39;s disgusting."...
"men are selfish creatures," the guard says. "and selfishness often leads to behavior that can be disgusting." / the prince scoffs. "i am a man. you are a man. neither of us would ever treat someone like that. clearly."/ the guard smiles, and the prince sees his ...
teeth are very sharp. "you think i wouldn& #39;t treat someone like that? wouldn& #39;t make someone bend to my own benefit?" / you wouldn& #39;t need to make anyone bend, they would break for you willingly, the prince thinks, but keeps it to himself. "no, of course not. you& #39;re.."
an honorable man." / "am I, you sweet little thing," the guard says, and the prince stifles a laugh as the guard stretches out over him and pins him to the bed. this is reminiscent of how the king had hovered over him minutes before, but so, so welcome in comparison.
"i think you are bluffing," the prince says, knowing the handsome guard is not. "we shall see, my king," the guard says, and the prince does squeal as the guard lifts him by the ankles, pulling the prince& #39;s legs up to expose his ass.
the prince yelps. "oh my--"/"none of that," the guard says, and slaps a leather-glove clad hand against the prince& #39;s vulnerable flesh. the prince is just glad his glove is not a gauntlet and struggles with the arousal that rushes through him at imagining the alternative...
"are you convinced that i am a scoundrel yet," the guard says, voice dry though his eyes are sparkling. "no, i think i will need more proof," the prince says, tears in the corners of his eyes at the pain and small cock leaking onto his soft belly. ...
"you are a minx," the guard growls, and tugs his glove off with those sharp teeth. his hand is still so large without it, and the prince parts his thighs too quickly as the guard bids them open. he doesn& #39;t think twice at the inebriated husband sleeping within earshot...
for the bed is large and the prince& #39;s own appetites as well. the prince& #39;s toes curl as the guard spits on him, the wet mess of it dripping down his balls. he whimpers as the guard paints the sloppy wad of saliva onto the prince& #39;s hole...
he eases a finger in along with it, though the prince would hardly call taking the thick digit easy, with how little he& #39;s used to the stretch. "oh," he says, breathless as the guard adds another, and clutches at the other man& #39;s armored forearm as he fucks his fingers...
in and out. wetness trails down soft skin as the prince frees one of his hands from the guard& #39;s forearm and begins to touch his cock. it feels ready to burst, and he scoots his ass over the edge of the bed, so that the guard may penetrate him at a better angle...
"so eager," the guard says, a smile pulling at the corners of his eyes, and the prince nods fervently, moaning as his body opens around a third finger, panting as the guard soon after asks if he can take a fourth. "my fingers will have to do. quicker to hide..."
a roaming hand than to fasten my cock away should he wake."/ the prince shakes his head, then nods again. whatever, whatever the guard wants, his sleeping husband be damned. all that armor must be a terror to work around, the prince thinks, hoping that beneath it...
the guard& #39;s cock is as hard as his own is. "oh, heavens," the prince sighs, as the knight tucks his thumb in past his rim. "pretty king, do you like this?" the guard asks, and the friction should be agony, the stretch impossible, with only the least of spit to help him, but the..
prince really is in heaven, feeling full in his belly, his cock dripping as he tugs at it, knees knocking together as he shoots unexpectedly, clamping down around his guard& #39;s knuckles. "there, you& #39;ll rest easier now," the guard says, withdrawing his hand, and...
the prince does not want to sleep in this bed, with this awful man oblivious to him, only to be woken by a randy king in the morning hours. but he has no choice, really. and his guard will be nearby. "i won& #39;t rest until i know you can stand at my bedside and protect me from..."
monsters like him."/ "and once again, my king, how do you know i am not one of the monsters & #39;like him& #39;?"/ the prince does not know what to say to that, and his mouth shuts with a click. the guard thumbs his chin with the same hand that was inside of him, brushes a thumb...
on his lower lip, swollen from biting down his moans. "i will come if you call," the guard says, and replaces his glove, hand on his sword once more as he leaves the tent. pulling the bed sheets over him, wrapping himself up tight to discourage unwrapping, the prince tells...
himself that this all will be better in the morning. when dawn breaks, the king is indeed head-sore but willing to try his luck, kissing him with terrible breath and begging to see a peak of his body. "you& #39;ve fulfilled me well enough last night, my king," he lies...
his one bright consolation his guard returning with breakfast on a tray. "the women told me you& #39;d bite their heads off if they tried, but they say you& #39;re afraid of me," the guard says to the king, and the prince nearly gasps. the king merely laughs. "perhaps
i should be," he says, and the prince looks at his guard, and thinks what his sister said, about the king having a weak heart. he cannot help but wonder how long her spies have given him, cannot help but think what a wonderful king the guard would make in his husband& #39;s stead...
"he is too kind a man to be afraid of, husband," the prince fibs, resisting the urge to snort at how excited the king is to be called the name. "eat your breakfast," the guard says, and rises, his sword settling against his hip as he went. it had taken quite a long time...
